


sweet on the tip of my tongue

by phae



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, UST, butchered quotes, cheesy flirting, passing notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phae/pseuds/phae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's a barista, Phil's some kind of businessman, and they both flirt like high schoolers by passing notes back and forth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweet on the tip of my tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icywind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icywind/gifts).



> Title is from Matt Nathanson's _Faster_.
> 
> This one is for [redsector-a](http://redsector-a.tumblr.com/), who wanted some coffee shop fluff. Hopefully this'll suffice. :)

Clint perfected the discreet once-over long before he fell into a job as a barista, but it certainly serves him well these days when he’s behind the espresso machine whipping up over-priced skinny lattes and obnoxiously complicated specialty drinks. Today’s highlight is definitely Mr. Suit and Tie, who just walked through the door deep in what looks like a heated conversation with a coworker, He of the Clear Aviators.

 

Clint tries to eavesdrop unobtrusively while he wipes down the machine and dries pitchers, but their voices are low as they lean toward one another. Their bickering is only interrupted briefly when they rattle off their orders to Darcy at the register. Clint watches Darcy visibly restrain herself from blowing a giant bubble with her gum to pop obnoxiously in reaction to their dismissive attitudes when they hand over [reusable cups](http://starbucksmelody.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/IMAG2877-1-dollar-reusable-cups-on-sale-at-Starbucks-01Oct2012.jpg). Clint snorts and starts putting together Four Eyes’ macchiato when she passes the first cup over.

 

The men amble down the bar towards Clint, and he can hear them once he turns off the steamer. “You’re not accounting for the advantage of acting on instinct without hesitation and the adrenalin rush afforded by their flight or fight response,” Dapper Dude argues.

 

Clint pops the top onto the macchiato and slides it over the counter to Patsy Man, who fires back at his friend, “And you’re forgetting how easy it is to outmaneuver an opponent who’s attacking based only on fear and _instinct_.”

 

Clint turns away from them to the bottles of flavored syrups, pumping in the requested caramel and pumpkin syrup on the next cup. He hears a phone ring while he bends down to grab the soy milk from the mini fridge, a generic ringtone, and Snazzy Pants sighs. “Unless this fictitious battle is taking place on the moon, the cavemen have it, hands down,” Hotstuff mutters decisively as he slips his phone out of his pocket and answers it with a terse, “What now?”

 

Clint swallows down a startled laugh and flips the steamer back on, watching the milk froth to try and school his expression back to politely attentive. He pours the milk in with the espresso and syrups, stirring the drink a few times to mix it together before he scoops milk foam on top. He caps the cup, but Fits Like a Glove has his back turned, still on the phone while his buddy sips his own drink and looks out the window. Clint reaches over to the cup of markers next to the register and scrawls across the cup’s side quickly before setting it down on the counter where he’ll see it as soon as turns back around.

 

Clint goes back to tidying up his area and knows the moment Mr. Handsome catches sight of what he wrote: _Do the astronauts have weapons?_ The guy’s laugh is just as attractive as the rest of him, and it leaves Clint feeling mildly light-headed. The Suit winks at him when Clint looks back over his shoulder and drops a bill in the tip jar on his way out. Clint lets himself enjoy watching D &G leave.

 

\---

 

Clint is more than pleasantly surprised when the Man in Black pops back in to the shop a few days later, a well-dressed sea of calm amidst the cranky early morning rush. Clint and Darcy are executing a carefully mastered dance around each other preparing drinks while Peter rings people up, but Clint barely dodges a messy collision with Darce and a pitcher of steaming milk when he darts forward to grab Mr. Sexy’s reusable cup from the counter to fill his order.

 

Clint glances over the scribbled specifications written on the side of the cup and comes to a startled stop when he sees writing that’s not Peter’s wrapping around the slick surface: _May the Force be ______.

 

Clint glances at Secret Identity down at the end of the bar now and raises a questioning eyebrow. He smiles back, small and friendly, and Clint’s eyes narrow at the distinct lack of challenge looking back at him.

 

He whips up the raspberry and chai latte with a faint grimace trying to imagine the taste, and dodges back to the marker cup when it’s ready. He fills in the blank with sloppy letters: _equal to mass times acceleration. ;)_

 

The Sharp Dressed Man eagerly twists the cup around when Clint puts it down on the counter and steps back to start making the next drink in the queue. His laugh is clear and bright even when surrounded by the den of a bustling crowd jonesing for their first caffeine hit of the day, and it leaves Clint grinning the rest of the morning.

 

\---

 

Clint’s working the register the next time Hugo Boss walks in. He hands over his cup with an amused little smile lurking around his mouth. Clint’s filling in boxes to fit his order of a hazelnut white mocha when he spots another message on the cup: _My name is Phil Coulson. You make good lattes. Prepare to smile._

 

Clint has to hide his laughter behind an awkward coughing fit when Peter looks over at him oddly. Biting his lip, Clint scrawls back: _The name is Barton. Clint Barton._ He passes the cup off to Peter and smirks at Phil as he meanders down to the end of the bar to wait for his drink.

 

Clint’s bagging up a rice krispy bar when Phil walks back past, headed for the door. He salutes with his cup in hand and calls, “Until next time, Clint.”

 

Peter ribs him about the short encounter incessantly for the rest of their shift, but Clint’s too giddy about it to work up enough annoyance to care.

 

\---

 

Weeks pass, and Clint is oddly content to pass notes back and forth with Phil the Cute Suit despite the high school feel of it all. Phil’s cup is stained with black and red smudges left over from erased messages, fingerprints obvious against the white plastic.

 

Phil’s taken to writing near the top where there’s still some clear space: _What nice eyes you have._

 

Clint sets about mixing his peppermint and vanilla latte, fighting down a blush while Phil leans against the counter and watches him.

 

Clint nabs a marker from next to the register and fills in the space under Phil’s writing after a second of hesitation: _All the better to ogle you with._ He turns the cup around and writes another message in the worst of the smudges: _WASH ME, PHIL._

 

Clint takes a load of dishes over to the sink to rinse after he hands off the cup, but his eyes keep sliding back to Phil, who stays at the counter to read what he wrote. Phil’s eyes flick over the first message and snap up to meet Clint’s, a leer stretching across his face. Clint feels his ears heat up but doesn’t look away in embarrassment, instead rising his brows back in challenge.

 

Phil huffs out a laugh and spins the cup to read what he wrote on the other side, and his eyes take on a glazed quality as he stares at it. Clint pauses for a confused moment, wondering what’s up with Phil’s reaction, before he catches on to where Phil’s mind just skipped off to. He crosses back to the espresso machine to grab the shot glasses, taking the opportunity to lean across the counter and whisper teasingly, “Pervert.”

 

Phil smirks back unashamedly and walks backwards to the door, keeping his eyes on Clint the whole time, his gaze heated.

 

\---

 

Phil’s with his coworker Jasper when they stop in around lunchtime the next day. Clint notes that Phil’s cup is shiny and white once again when he sets it down next to the register. Jasper puts in his order first and hands his cup to Clint himself. Darcy rolls her eyes but punches it in, leaving it to Clint to mark it down. He notes the two extra shots Jasper asked for while he walks to his station and notices a message curling around the cup, frowning as he reads it: _Name a date and time. He’s made a damn list of “casual convo topics.”_

 

Clint looks up to Jasper when he rounds the bar to stand in front of Clint. He raises an eyebrow, and Jasper sighs in exasperation, glancing pointedly from Clint to Phil’s cup that Darcy’s placed next to the espresso machine. The sudden jolt of panic that shoots down Clint’s spine to nestle uncomfortably in his stomach has him shaking his head jerkily. Jasper raises his hand to point at Clint menacingly, his face set in a stern mask, and he mouths, “ _Do it!_ ”

 

Phil ambles over then and shoves at Jasper’s shoulder to move him away from Phil’s de facto spot where he always waits for his drink. Clint finishes up Jasper’s boring macchiato and sets it down forcefully on the counter in front of him. Jasper only raises his eyebrows challengingly in response. Phil eyes the silent exchange warily, but Clint smiles at him as he walks back to start on Phil’s drink, and that seems to settle Phil.

 

Next to the coffee lingo boxes, Phil’s scrawled: _Make it dirty. ;)_

 

Clint turns his back to Phil as he tries to get his filthy grin in check, and adds toffee nut and caramel syrup to the cup. He lets the familiar routine of preparing the latte soothe his nerves and decides to take a chance on Phil and get Jasper to leave him be in one fell swoop.

 

_Friday, 7pm?_

 

Clint sets the cup down in front of Phil and then uses the excuse of cleaning the station to turn away so he doesn’t have to watch as he reads the question. He busies himself with wiping stray drops of espresso from the grill. There’s no sound behind him, and Clint has no idea if that’s a good sign or a very, very bad one.

 

He hazards a covert look over at Phil, and he’s just standing there patiently, his hands around his cup and a happy grin lighting his eyes. Clint turns to him, one hand going up to rub the back of his neck, and firmly ignores Jasper standing behind Phil as he rolls his eyes emphatically.

 

“Meet you at the station around the corner?” Phil asks clearly once Clint manages to maintain eye contact for a few seconds.

 

Clint nods his head so fast he hears something pop in his neck. Jasper stomps out of the shop with a disgruntled, “Finally.” Phil doesn’t move to follow him, staying put to stare back at Clint as they both simply stand their smiling at each other.

 

The moment is rudely interrupted by a damp rag smacking into the side of Clint’s head courtesy of Darcy. “On the one hand,” she says, her tone infused with sass, “It’s about damn time. On the other, stop it right now before we run the risk of a health violation due to UST becoming suddenly resolved.”

 

Clint tosses the rag back at her rather than taking the time away from soaking in Phil’s smile to glare at her. The corner of Phil’s mouth twitches up apologetically a moment later, and he starts to back away, headed after Jasper. Clint waves and watches until he’s out of sight past the windows surrounding the shop.

 

Then he turns to Darcy and throws an arm over her shoulders. She grunts and tries to duck away, but Clint only cinches his arm tighter and jeers, “Of all the coffee joints in all the towns in all the world—”

 

“Don’t you dare!” Darcy screeches, elbowing him right under the ribs.

 

Clint gasps but doesn’t let up his hold. “He walks into mine!”

 

Darcy digs the heel of her shoe over top Clint’s toes and flounces away when his arm falls. “Phil woulda laughed!” Clint shouts after her as she walks to the stockroom.

 

Darcy’s voice carries through the door easily enough. “How lucky that you met the only guy who thinks you’re funny, then!”

 

Clint spins in place, shaking his hips in a subdued victory dance appropriate for the workplace, and steps up to the register when a new customer walks through the door.


End file.
